


Milk Run

by mattygroves



Series: It's just a Milk Run, Rodney [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Brave Sir Robin ran away, DADT, DADT Repeal, Deus Ex Daedalus, He ran away he ran away, I Was A Male War Bride, John can't handle your teenage drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 04:39:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7252429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattygroves/pseuds/mattygroves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two miles later, drenched to the skin in spite of the grossly inadequate emergency rain gear, Rodney muttered, “’It’ll be fine, Rodney, it’s just a milk run.’”</p><p>“I can hear you,” Sheppard called back cheerfully.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Milk Run

**Author's Note:**

> This story is loosely inspired by "I Was A Male War Bride", a gem of a Cary Grant film--it'll still make sense if you haven't seen the movie, though!

Rodney should have known the minute they came through the gate on M5K-9-whatever that this mission would go to shit. Well, to be precise, it took three minutes of cruising over a forest of birch-like trees, all silvery in the sun, before the sudden electrical storm hit, interfering with the nav systems and sending them into what Sheppard claimed was a “controlled” landing in a muddy meadow—a rapidly flooding muddy meadow.

After a few minutes of “Check the—” and “Can you fix—” interspersed with much swearing, Rodney declared irritably, “Yeah, if I had two weeks and a team of twenty Zelenkas.”

“In that case, we should get moving before we’re under water,” Sheppard said, with that idiotic grin he saved for dire situations. “It’s only ten miles to the gate.”

Rodney let loose an exasperated sigh before grabbing his pack and stuffing it full of extra MREs and any loose tech he could fit. You never knew what you might need when Sheppard was running a mission.

Two miles later, drenched to the skin in spite of the grossly inadequate emergency rain gear, Rodney muttered, “’It’ll be fine, Rodney, it’s just a milk run.’”

“I can hear you,” Sheppard called back cheerfully.

To be fair to John, it was a literal milk run. They’d traded with the Tinéan people many times for something that resembled sheep’s milk and made a pretty decent cheese. It didn’t require the whole team—it didn’t really require John or Rodney for that matter, one of the less experienced teams could have handled it. But John had been antsy since they’d returned Atlantis to the Pegasus galaxy, so when he pulled Rodney from his lab on a sunny afternoon, insisting, “You’ve been moping, Rodney, it’s not healthy,” Rodney had just gone along.

So he really should have been prepared for this, since John’s missions have a particularly spectacular way of going south. But it had been a few months since Jennifer had decided to stay on Earth, and Rodney had welcomed the distraction, even if he would never admit it out loud.

His boots squelched, picking up debris and getting heavy with mud, and Sheppard was a good ten yards ahead, leaving him alone with his thoughts, so, yeah, mission not accomplished.

Eventually, they stopped to rest and scrape mud from their boots. “Just a few more miles,” Sheppard said, which meant they were barely halfway there. Rodney unearthed a Power Bar from the recesses of his tac vest and broke off half for John, who grunted in thanks.

When they got moving again, the torrential rain had slowed to a steady downpour. By the time they reached the gate, it was just a drizzle and Rodney was ready to feel a little grateful for small favors and already thinking about the hot shower waiting for him on Atlantis, when he heard John swear, loudly and fluently, ahead of him. As Rodney cleared the trees and caught sight of the gate, smoldering and sparking, he joined in the swearing. The DHD looked like it had taken a direct hit and was split right down the middle.

“Shitshitshit,” Rodney finished.

“Can you—”

“Yes, because electrocution on a bucolic pre-industrial planet is how I always hoped to die.”

“Well, I hope you like sheep, McKay, because even if we fix the Jumper, it’ll take a hundred and fifty-seven years to get back to New Lantea.”

“Oh my god, I’m going to die of old age on Tinéa, surrounded by the dozens of offspring you’ve spawned with a buxom village maiden.”

“Well, when you put it that way it doesn’t sound so bad,” John drawled.

“I’ll have killed you by then, but I’ll be let off by the village counsel because you drove me to it,” Rodney said, swiping the water from his face and blinking.

“Can we focus on the matter at hand before consigning me to an untimely demise?”

Rodney grumbled, but stepped gingerly toward the DHD. It emitted a bright zap that he only just missed by yelping and falling gracelessly backward.

“That’s a no, then?”

“Yes, it’s a no!” Rodney snapped.

Sheppard exhaled loudly, hands on his hips, and surveyed the terrain around the Stargate. Rodney was starting to shiver as he fumbled in his pack for something, anything that might be useful. When he looked up, Sheppard was eyeing him thoughtfully, his lips turning blue.

“I saw a cave a few miles back,” he said. “We can sleep there tonight and go on to the village in the morning. Maybe we can do something about the gate when everything dries up. At least we’ll get some real food in the meantime.”

Since there was nothing to do but acquiesce, Rodney zipped his pack and followed him back into the woods, wondering if there would ever be a place he wouldn’t follow Sheppard.

In the cave, once Rodney was convinced that nothing big and full of fangs called it home, Sheppard built a fire. They stripped down to their boxers and wrapped themselves in emergency blankets before raiding their stash of MREs.

“I’ve been thinking,” Rodney said after awhile.

“A dangerous past time.”

“Oh my god, I’m never taking you to Jeannie’s again. You and Madison must have watched that movie at least ten times in a row.”

“It was only six,” John said, as if Rodney didn’t know. As if he hadn’t sat next to him on his sister’s couch for every viewing; as if his heart hadn’t been beating in his throat when their elbows touched and neither of them moved.

“And you’re just jealous she likes Uncle John better than Uncle Rodney,” he continued with a grin, scratching the back of his head and fluffing up his already unruly hair.

Rodney just snorted.

“It doesn’t make sense,” John said a moment later. Rodney could tell by his tone that he was back on the problem at hand, and not still harping on Rodney’s imagined avuncular jealousy.

“I know, there’re safeguards against natural disasters. It’s not as if the Ancients were idiots—” that earned a snort from John, “We’ve passed through plenty of gates in all kinds of weather—”

“Sabotage?”

“I mean, maybe. But why? All they had to do was say ‘no, you can’t have our weird sheep-like milk, bye forever,’” he pressed his palms into his eyes, trying to focus in spite of the warm fire and a nearly naked Sheppard, “I’ll need to get a better look when it’s not actively trying to kill me.”

“We should be careful in the village, just in case,” he looked unhappy, but there was something else Rodney couldn’t quite place in his tone and posture, as the firelight flickered in his hazel eyes.

***

It was still drizzling the next morning when they headed out of the cave, so checking in on the Stargate was pointless. They headed toward the village, which was only a few miles past where they had abandoned the Puddle Jumper. Rodney’s clothes were stiff in places and still damp in others. He pulled at the back of his jacket where the collar was scratching his neck. 

The sun was dipping below the nearby hills as they approached the Tinéan village. It was on the larger side, this world’s remoteness keeping them a little out the Wraith’s usual feeding grounds in the last few decades, and charming in a French countryside kind of way, all tumbled stone and flowers spilling from window boxes. Normally, Rodney found it quite charming and it’s reticent people marginally pleasant, but with the possibility of sabotage whispering in the back of mind, he was more on guard than usual. He stuck close to Sheppard, though slightly behind, as they broke though the tree line into the valley.

A tiny figure watching from the walls waved both arms and yelled something unintelligible before disappearing into the city. A few moments later, a small group was moving to meet them. Sheppard’s hand went to his P-90, but he tried to make it look casual. Rodney fiddled with the buckles on his tac vest.

The foremost figure was waving, but it wasn’t until the sun sank further behind the hills and wasn’t in their eyes anymore that they recognized their contact from previous trips, Elder Shar, a tall stately women in her sixties. Rodney noticed the tense line of Sheppard’s shoulders begin to ease, but only slightly.

“Well met, friends Sheppard and McKay,” Shar said, smiling, “We had begun to worry that the storm had caused you harm.”

“Good to see you again, Shar,” Sheppard bowed in greeting and taking in the group under a watchful eye. “We had some trouble with our ship, but it’ll take more than a little storm to get us, isn’t that right McKay?”

“Oh, yes, right.” Rodney cast a baleful eye on the youngest of the Elder’s escort. It was a child of eight or so, Shar’s eldest granddaughter. 

Sheppard allowed himself an amused look as the girl, Teren, attached herself to Rodney’s arm and began dragging him back to the village, keeping up a steady monologue.

“...It has been many months since you visited, Dr. McKay. I have a new kitten and I grew a whole inch. The lambs have just been weened and are a little sad about it...”

“You must be tired,” Shar smiled at John.

“Tired doesn’t begin to cover it,” he grinned, loosening his grip on P-90, “But I do have something important to discuss with you. In private.”

She nodded, “When you have eaten and been given a change a clothes.”

“Sounds good.”

“You remember my youngest daughter, Rané?”

The young woman beside Shar bowed her head slightly with a shy smile.

“Of course,” Sheppard said, “Uh, greetings, and whatnot. Rané.”

Shar gestured for them to walk ahead of her, and fell behind with the only other member of the welcoming committee, an older man that John vaguely remembered was a steward or something in Shar’s household.

This was the part John always hated.

“So, Rané,” he said with an awkward smile, “How’s it going? Anything interesting happen since the last time I was here?”

“We had a very good harvest, though the sheep have not been reproducing at the rate mother would like. A guild meeting has been called to discuss more robust breeding policies. Perhaps if you are staying awhile, this will be of interest to you.”

“Yeah, that sounds really...interesting,” John was just glad Rodney was distracted enough not to hear this.

“I am apprenticed to an animal healer now. I find the work most fascinating.”

“That’s great.”

Thankfully, the girl talked slowly but walked fast, and when they caught up with Rodney and Teren, the younger girl took over the talking for all of them. 

As they passed under the arch that led to the town square, though, Rodney managed to hiss, “Don’t you think she’s a little young, Sheppard? That girl’s eighteen if she’s a day. Oh god, the clean air is already affecting my brain, I’m using phrases like, ‘if she’s a day’—I might as well be in Saskatchewan.”

John just glared at him. 

Shar settled them in a pair of rooms on the upper floor of her house, not far from the town square. Her steward, whom she introduced as Skargil, provided them with a steaming bath and change of clothes each. Rodney emerged from his bath feeling much more human and much less clammy. He grumbled a bit to himself as he put on the clothes, a soft cottony tunic and loose pants over pointy-toed cloth slippers. He felt a little ridiculous, especially knowing that Sheppard would somehow make this combination look dashing. 

He did, which earned him a glare from Rodney when they met in the hall to head down to dinner. John was leaning against the wood paneled wall in the dimly lit hallway. 

“Where you waiting for me?” Rodney asked suspiciously.

“Buddy system, McKay,” he said, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

At dinner they were seated together between Teren on Rodney’s left and Rané on John’s right. The easy attitude John had displayed in the hallway seemed to have left him, but he was polite enough. Teren kept Rodney busy with questions about the workings of the universe, which Rodney answered with exasperation and accuracy. Rané was mostly silent, for which John was grateful, and the girl on her other side was keeping up enough conversation for both of them. Rané introduced her as Chara, a family friend. The table was full of various members of Shar’s household and a few people John vaguely remembered from previous visits. 

Chara was discussing the upcoming festival, something about the planet’s vernal equinox, and asking Rané what she was planning to wear, and generally keeping up a one sided conversation full of harmless gossip and news. Rané seemed much more interested in what Chara had to say, so John was happy to zone out a bit, tuning his ear for anything interesting or worrisome around the table. 

But he was beginning to feel his concern about sabotage was unfounded. Shar’s house was genuinely welcoming; the people seemed happy, unhurried, and joyful in each other’s company. Wine passed freely and laughter flowed.

“Don’t you agree, Colonel?”

John shook himself. Chara and Rané looked at him expectantly.

“Um, yes?” he hoped that was a safe answer.

“See?” Chara was saying to Rané, “I told you the city of the Ancestors was much more advanced both technologically and socially.”

John really hoped he hadn’t just started a teen angst fueled Footloose rebellion.

“Mother thinks—” Rané began.

Chara let out a noise that could rival Rodney at his snarkiest, which made John want to laugh. But he remembered being eighteen, so he kept his amusement to himself.

“No, no, no!” Rodney was saying on his other side.

“But what about—” Teren whispered something conspiratorially.

Rodney seemed to consider it for a moment, “Actually, that might work.”

“Rodney,” John said in his best warning tone, “What are you planning?”

“It’s a secret!” Teren said.

“Yeah, he just wants to ruin our fun,” Rodney said mutinously.

John solemnly felt his forehead to check for a fever, which made Rodney turn red. Mission accomplished. He patted his back in a friendly manner as Rodney glared at him. When he turned back to the Rané and Chara, they were staring at him, open-mouthed. 

“Did I just do something wildly inappropriate?” he really needed to start listening during those cultural awareness briefings. He was relieved when they shook their heads mutely, in unison.

He was really glad when dinner was over and Shar beckoned them to her private study.

“The gate’s broken,” Rodney said without prelude. 

“Let’s not sugar coat it, McKay,” John said drily.

 

“That is indeed bad news,” said Shar, reaching behind her to grip the chair before sitting down. “Please sit. Can nothing be done?”

“It was hard to tell in rain,” John explained. “But the DHD was damaged pretty badly.”

“Which doesn’t make sense,” Rodney said, “We’ve encountered adverse weather conditions, but we’ve never seen lightning directly hit a gate. They’ve got built in lightning rod thingies.”

“Is that the technical term, Dr. McKay?” John chuckled in spite of himself.

“Yes,” Rodney bit out, “Colonel Sheppard.”

Shar raised an eyebrow and they settled down like chastised schoolboys.

“The point is,” Rodney continued, “That something was wrong with it before the storm. It could have been accidental. But it could have been intentional. I won’t know until I can get a better look at it.”

“I’m afraid you’ve stumbled onto something of complicated situation,” Shar sighed. “There are those among our people who wish to cut ourselves off from outsiders. They fear our trading with the Ancient city will bring the Wraith upon us.”

“We told you the Wraith aren’t the threat they used to be,” John started.

“But any threat is enough. It is a contingent governed by fear. If they have sabotaged the gate and stranded you with us, I am truly sorry.”

“Well, there’s no use crying over spilt milk,” John said.

Rodney looked very much like he wanted to cry over spilt milk, but he was probably just tired.

“As you say,” Shar nodded, “You need rest. Until tomorrow.”

They bade her goodnight and made their way back upstairs. A few candles on sconces lit their way. Their path lay through the dining room with it’s long wooden table and mishmash of chairs and benches, and across a small courtyard with a fountain and some kind of night blooming flower that Rodney was definitely allergic to. He was about to complain about it, when Sheppard clapped a hand over his mouth and directed his gaze with a nod of his chin. He recognized the long auburn hair of Shar’s daughter Rané as her attention was fully occupied by the lips and wandering hands of a darker haired girl in a corner of the courtyard. 

They stole out the other side and were on the stairs before John muttered something about it being Romeo and Juliet instead of Footloose, which Rodney didn’t quite understand.

“Rodney, I’m tired,” John whined at the top of the stairs.

“So go to sleep.”

“My shoulders are sore.” 

“So’re mine.”

“C’mon, my pack weighs twice as much as yours.”

“Oh my god, I regret giving you that congratulations-on-not-being-dead back rub two years ago.”

“You give the best backrubs, Rodney.”

“Okay, okay, just stop whining. I’m seriously considering murdering the woman who told you that was attractive.”

John just grinned and opened the door to his room. Rodney sat cross-legged behind him, working the muscles through his thin tunic and keeping up a steady grumble. After awhile John sort of fell sideways and muttered something unintelligible into the pillow. A second later he was snoring, so Rodney heaved his legs onto the bed, removing the cloth slippers before pulling the covers over him. 

When he went to open the door, the handle came off in his hand. He swore under his breath, pretty sure he’d seen this in an old black and white movie Jeannie had made him watch. The other end must have fallen off in the hallway. He stuck the knob back in the hole and looked around the dark room—a couple rickety looking wooden chairs. But the bed Sheppard was in was pretty large, so.

The room had lightened to the dim grey of early morning when Rodney heard a “Morning, McKay,” and opened his eyes to Sheppard standing over him, fully dressed in the grey pants and black t-shirt of his Atlantis uniform. Rodney sat up like a shot, remembering where he was.

“The door handle’s broken! I couldn’t get out.”

Sheppard, amused, walked over the door, opening it with ease.

“Well somebody must’ve—”

“Day’s a wasting, Rodney, go get dressed. I’m starving.”

“But the door—”

“Breakfast.”

Sadly, the Tinéan had no coffee, but the bark juice or tea or whatever they called it wasn’t all that bad with the steamed not-sheep milk. The Tinéans seemed to be early risers, too, so John and Rodney ate alone at one end of the long table, with Skargil checking in on them occasionally.

“We should see about transportation back to gate,” John said, “Maybe they have horses or something.”

“Ugh,” Rodney said around a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

***

“I have an idea about that,” Shar said later when they approached her. She led them to a barn behind the house, pulling a dusty cloth off of suspicious looking lump in the corner.

“Oh no,” said Rodney.

“Oh yeah!” said John, running has hands over the curved fenders of what could only be called a motorcycle. An Ancient motorcycle—it began to glow as soon as John laid his hands on.

“Look, Rodney, it’s got a sidecar!”

“I’m not getting in that thing.”

An hour later, Rodney’s ass was sore from bumping along a dusty road with Sheppard at the wheel. In his lap, he clutched the picnic basket Shar had insisted, with no resistance from Rodney, they bring along. Apparently, the Ancients didn’t believe in helmets, but they at least had goggles in a compartment under the seat. John was grinning like an idiot and looking way better than any person in goggles had a right to look.

Rodney glared at him, ignoring the tightness growing in his chest, until Sheppard looked over at him, still grinning maniacally.

“Eyes on the road, mister!” Rodney yelped as John barely swerved to miss a boulder.

At the gate, Rodney approached the DHD cautiously and tinkered with it for a while. John was content to lie on a nearby boulder and soak in the spring sunshine. Rodney really hoped he wouldn’t take his shirt off, because that would be...distracting, to say the least.

After a few hours, he felt his sugar levels start to crash, so he opened the picnic basket, saying “Food,” to John through a mouthful of freshly baked bread spread with a soft cheese. John lifted his head slightly and raised his aviators to look at Rodney, then seemed to decide moving wasn’t worth it. Rodney snorted. John could be pretty fast on his feet in a crisis, but Rodney had discovered over the last seven years just how lazy he could be when no one around him was in danger of actively dying or trying to kill him.

A few hours later, Rodney yelped and Sheppard was on his feet in an instant, if a little hazy.

“Was’it?” he said.

“I’ve managed to reconnect the power supply, but it’s severely depleted. I won’t be able to open a stable wormhole long enough for us to go through, but I think I can send a message.”

“Do it.”

“Oh, yes, thank you. I was thinking of just living out my days here.”

John rolled his eyes, but squatted down to hover behind Rodney’s shoulder.

“Do you mind?” Rodney said. He smelled like sunshine and sweat, very distracting.

John held up his hands in surrender, but instead of retreating back to his rock, he rolled back on his ass, forearms resting on raised knees.

An hour later, Rodney activated the gate and sent a coded message through before it collapsed and the DHD started to fizzle again.

“Well, here’s hoping that worked, because I doubt we’ll get another chance.”

“So that’s two weeks before the Daedalus was scheduled to drop supplies at Atlantis, and two weeks before they could get here if they got our message,” Sheppard said.

“A month in the country,” Rodney said grimly.

***

The first week passed relatively quickly. With the help of twenty men, twelve oxen like creatures, and about a mile of sturdy rope they were able to drag the Puddle Jumper to just outside the village wall where Rodney could begin the necessary repairs. When he wasn’t fussing over the ship, he was conscripted into the service of Teren for a secret project, the details of which neither would divulge.

“Just don’t blow yourself up,” John said, and received identical looks from both of them, somewhere between mulish and offended.

Rodney stalked off muttering something about one solar system, one time, with Teren tripping along behind him.

John had less to keep him busy, so he spent a lot of time riding the Ancient motorcycle (the sidecar was detachable), or discussing the heated political situation with Shar. Sometimes he just hung around Rodney when he was really bored, and watched him fiddle with the ship. His favorite game was to ask stupid questions and watch Rodney turn pink with anger. Occasionally Rané and Chara would stop by and watch them bicker with looks both amused and horrified on their faces. John and Rodney never brought up what they had seen in the courtyard, and Rané and Chara never indicated they had been aware of their presence. 

One afternoon, while walking through the vineyards with Shar, she turned the discussion away from politics to her children, specifically Rané.

“She’s not like her sisters,” Shar said, “They have all chosen husbands and are bearing children, but Rané prefers animals to people.”

“She seems close with what’s her name, Chara,” John ventured, not liking where the conversation had turned. In his experience, when parents began discussing their young unmarried daughters with him, it ended awkwardly for him. One memorable time had involved fleeing in the night. Rodney wouldn’t let him forget it.

“Yes, Chara is a good friend,” Shar said in a way that let John know that Shar didn’t know just how good a friend she was.

“But Rané needs the stable influence of marriage, I think,” Shar continued. “Perhaps an older man.”

“Oh, I don’t know, she seems pretty mature,” John suddenly became very interested in his wristband, picking at a loose thread.

“Exactly, she’s the sort of girl who would attract an older man, someone sure of himself and his path in life.”

John would have laughed at that description applied to himself if he didn’t feel so uncomfortable. Shar had stopped walking and turned to him, forcing him by the intensity of her personality to do the same. She held his gaze for a long time.

“Who, me?” John finally said in a strangled voice, unable to take it anymore. “Um, I don’t think I’m her type.”

“You have no previous arrangement?”

“Um,” John said, his mind going blank. He looked helplessly over the where Rodney was rewiring a panel on the outer hull of the Puddle Jumper. 

“Of course, I hope you will be successful in returning to the Ancient City, but should you and Dr. McKay be forced to stay, you would be most welcome in my household.”

Ever the diplomat, John thought, forging alliances. He was beginning to feel a little desperate when Shar excused herself and walked back to the village. A few rows over, a dark head popped over the vines.

“Psst, Colonel,” Chara hissed and then jerked her head to indicate that he should walk back the way he came, away from the village. Chara and Rané were crouched at the end of the row when he reached it, and Chara pulled him down forcefully.

“Ow,” he said, after landing on his knees.

“Sorry,” Chara said, not at all sounding it.

“Were you spying on me?” John asked a little incredulously.

“Yes,” Chara said, tossing her shoulder length hair.

“My mother is very embarrassing on certain subjects,” Rané said, by way of explanation.

“Yeah, she kind of just proposed to me, er, for you, on your behalf.”

“You are not the first,” Chara’s eyes flashed. Rané’s pale freckled cheeks were spotted pink. 

“I told her I wasn’t your type,” John said defensively, and god, he just knew he was going to get sucked into this teen movie drama. Why didn’t he ever get to just blow stuff up like McKay?

“You’re not,” Chara said, equally defensive.

“I know, and no offense Rané, but you’re not my type either,” John was trying be the adult, but he could hear how petulant he sounded. “And the age difference is creepy.”

“Yes, it is,” said Chara.

“So, we understand each other. Can I go?”

Chara looked like she had a cutting remark on the tip of her tongue, but Rané intervened.

“We were hoping you could speak to my mother. Relationships like yours and Dr. McKay’s aren’t common with our people, but perhaps you could make her understand. She’s tied to the idea of marriage being for the purpose of procreation, to sustain the village for the next generation. But we would have her understand that a marriage without love is no marriage at all, even if children are impossible.”

“What does that have to do with me and Dr. McKay?” John asked, already afraid of the answer.

“You are married,” Rané said.

“We are what?”

“Aren’t you?” Chara said.

“Um, no.” 

He could tell they didn’t believe him and he didn’t really feel like explaining Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, and the fact that gay marriage was only legal in a few states. And then he’d have to explain states and probably the Civil War, which only made sense if you understood the Revolutionary War and the hundreds of years of Colonial history leading up to it, don’t even get him started on the shit show that was the trans-Atlantic slave trade...you’re spiraling John, he told himself. Spiraling and blushing, damn you.

“I have to go,” he said quickly, darting up and running away.

***

Shar and a few of the other Elders had been carrying on a quiet investigation into the possible sabotage of the Stargate. Rodney’s survey of it had been inconclusive, unfortunately. John was invited to observe the questioning of a few suspects, but without a confession or actual evidence, they had little to go on.

Rodney’s mind was taken up with fixing the Puddle Jumper, if only to give John something to do instead of hovering, along with his side project with Teren, so he hadn’t really been following the investigation. 

With his mind occupied, the quiet and repetitive nature of country life had yet to drive him crazy. He and John had even settled into a kind of routine within the structured days of Shar’s household. Without imminent daily disaster playing fast and loose with their sleep schedules, they rose early. Skargil brought them bark tea with steamed milk and they would end up sitting by the open windows in one if their rooms, usually in comfortable silence, sometimes discussing their plans for the day.

By the end of the third week, Rodney was beginning to tire of Jumper maintenance and Teren’s boisterous presence, so when John proposed a trip in the sidecar to see more of the countryside, Rodney surprised both of them by accepting.

John ignored the pointed looks from Rané and Chara as he emerged from the kitchen with another picnic basket. Rodney was waiting by the motorcycle outside, bouncing a little on his toes. He immediately began quizzing John about which numbers were or were not prime, a sure sign of good humor in McKay. He even let John drive fast for a while before complaining.

After they had eaten more than their fill and collapsed in the shade of silver leafed trees, Rodney sighed contentedly. 

“I guess it’s not so bad here,” he said sleepily.

“You don’t mind if we’re stuck here?” John asked.

“Well, it’s not my first choice, but it’s better than a hive ship. Or Vancouver,” he was drifting off.

John shifted himself against a tree root to get more comfortable and let his mind go blank. He didn’t think he would sleep, but he woke up with Rodney curled against his side. The root was digging into his back but he didn’t want to disturb him.

“Eerrgh,” Rodney muttered, snuggling closer.

“Good morning,” Sheppard said softly. 

Rodney’s eyes shot open. He looked down, turned red, and scrambled away. John couldn’t help but chuckle, even though it earned him a glare from Rodney.

“I should, uh, get back,” Rodney stuttered. “I promised Teren—”

“Rodney—”

“God, it’s late,” Rodney squinted up at the sun as though he knew what it meant.

“Rodney—”

“Can we just go?” Rodney snapped.

“Yeah. Okay.”

***

Rodney didn’t come to his room the next morning for bark tea. And when John knocked on his door, he didn’t answer. 

Three days later they had barely spoken, though not for lack of trying on John’s part. Whenever he managed to track Rodney down, Rodney was always in a hurry to be somewhere else. 

John fell into bed on the fourth day, exhausted but unable to sleep. He slept fitfully and woke late, tangled in the soft sheet with the heavy quilt pushed down by his feet. The nights were getting warmer. 

It was the day of the Festival, and he had promised Shar to help with the set up. His worst fears were realized when Shar put him to work helping Rané set up tables for the food, and where Rané was there was Chara also. Chara was still glaring at him whenever she saw him, and Rané was still giving him hurt looks. He was starting to crack under the pressure.

Finally the sun set, and people starting filling the square. The tables were heaped with food and someone thrust a glass of wine into John’s hand and he drained it gratefully. It was sweet and mellow as it hit the back of his throat. It was also surprisingly alcoholic, and John went in search of another glass before attempting to find Rodney in the crowd. He had made up his mind about a few things in the last few days.

The dancing started before he could accomplish his goal, taking over the center of the square as couples twirled in choreographed movement. There was a lot of raising of arms, and going under of arms, and joining of hands in solemn turns. It was making John a little dizzy. It reminded him of a Jane Austen movie he had watched with Jeannie. 

Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Chara take Rané’s hand and lead her out on to the dance floor. At first, they didn’t do anything to draw attention, but their movements were so precise yet effortless and they moved in such unity, that soon all eyes were on them. John tore his eyes away to glance at Shar, who looked confused and a little stern. 

The other couples drifted to the edges, and as the music faded at the song’s conclusion, the girls were the only people still dancing. They didn’t seem to notice, though. The final pose of the dance brought them close, face to face, looking at each other as though the world had fallen away, as though they were the only people in existence. In unison, their faces drew close into a soft, chaste kiss, and as John watched he felt a pang of—longing—in his chest. 

It was then that his eyes met Rodney’s across the courtyard, and he couldn’t help it, he grinned like he’d lost his mind. He broke the silence with clapping, and many among the crowd joined in. Shar looked a little lost, but not angry. Who could be angry in the face of such love? Rané and Chara were startled by the noise, and broke apart red faced. John tried to get around the crowd to where Rodney stood with Teren, but he saw Rodney stoop down to whisper something in the girl’s ear.

“Everyone to the meadow!” she called in her loud unmistakable voice, “A special surprise!”

And John lost Rodney in the crowd again as people began to file through the arches leading through the village walls. Rodney and Teren must have run ahead, because they were already on the far side of the meadow when John got there. He could see the bobbing lantern Teren was holding for Rodney, encasing him in the warm glow, working on something low to the ground. He could see Rodney’s flailing arm motioning for Teren to step back, then there was a spark leading to the high pitched sound and an explosion of light and sound.

Rodney had made fireworks.

The show was a hit with the villagers as he set them off one by one, the vivid colors painting the dark sky, each accompanied by a satisfying bang and the appropriate applause.

But Rodney slipped away right after. John knocked on his door before going to bed, but he didn’t answer. Another fitful night of sleep awaited him and the wine had already begun to wear off. He could hear every creaking on the stairs and the sounds of the village below his window as the party wound down and they made their way toward bed and sleep.

But he must have dozed for a while because the room was brighter when he awoke. Then he coughed and realized it wasn’t sunlight, it was fire.

“Shit!” he said, getting more tangled in his sheets in his attempt to escape. He was only wearing his boxers, but only one thought was in his head, “McKay!” 

He called through the walls, banging on them for good measure. He thanked whatever gods were out there that he remembered to wrap a blanket around his hand before attempting to open the door. The hallway was smoky, but the fire seemed contained in his bedroom. 

“McKay!”

“Sheppard! I’m in here!” McKay called from the other side of his door, “My room is on fire and the door handle is broken!”

Sheppard looked at his feet to see the other side of McKay’s door handle. He spared a moment for a grin as he fitted it back in place and opened the door.

“Now do you believe me about the door handle be—” Mckay began peevishly.

But he didn’t get to finish because John was grabbing him by his t-shirt and crushing their mouths together. When he pulled back, Rodney just looked stunned. And then the rest of the house was running up the stairs and spilling out of bedrooms. Somehow in the chaos the fire was put out. John managed to find his pants, and a shirt.

The noise had brought other villagers to the house to help, too, and soon John and Rodney were in Shar’s study with a few of the other Elders.

“We are truly sorry you experienced this danger,” Shar began, “But it has allowed us to apprehend two of the radicals who may have had a hand in damaging the Stargate. It is a start.”

“That’s, uh, great then,” John said. He felt a little guilty for underestimating the counsel’s ability. He was about the go on when something in his pocket buzzed. He looked at Rodney, puzzled, “What is that sound?”

“That’s your radio, dumbass.”

It was.

“Colonel Sheppard, this Colonel Caldwell on the Daedalus. We have your coordinates if you’re ready to beam aboard.”

“This is Sheppard. It’s a great to hear your voice, Colonel. Um, can you give us a minute? We’re kind of in the middle of a thing,” he turned to Shar, “We can’t leave you in the middle of this.”

“On the contrary, Colonel, we’re perfectly capable of dealing with this infraction,” there was a glint of humor in her eyes now, “If you can return to fix the Stargate, though—”

“It’s a promise,” Sheppard grinned, “I’m coming back for my Puddle Jumper. And I’m kind of hoping you’ll let me keep the motorcycle.”

“Oh my god,” Rodney muttered.

“Colonel Caldwell, we’re ready.”

A moment later, Rodney and John stood on the bridge of the Daedalus. Caldwell looked at their smoke smudged faces and sniffed.

“You smell like barbecue,” he said.

“We almost were,” John said, “It’s a long story. Anything interesting happen while we were gone?”

“Not much,” Caldwell adjusted his glasses, “We’ve assigned you to your usual quarters, so you can get cleaned up before you dirty up my nice clean ship any more than you already have. Oh, and President Obama signed the repeal of DADT last month, if that’s of interest.”

A hundred well-masked emotions passed over Sheppard’s face as Rodney balked and Caldwell looked on in amusement. John grabbed Rodney by the arm and pulled him toward the door.

“Let me know when we get to Atlantis,” Sheppard called over his shoulder, “But not a minute before.”

Caldwell was laughing before the door closed behind them.

When they reach the crew quarters and John had Rodney pressed up against the wall, trailing kisses down his neck, Rodney had an epiphany.

“Oh my god, we could have been doing this all month.”

“We could’ve been doing this for the last seven years, dumbass,” John breathed into his neck.

“Oh my god.”

**Author's Note:**

> My first foray into writing for this fandom that I dearly love. Also my longest fic yet! It ate up my weekend and I have absolutely no regrets.
> 
> Kudos and comments will be received with gratitude and hail-fellow-well-met bonhomie! Thanks for reading!


End file.
